


One Support

by Sparklez112



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Chandlmara - Freeform, Child Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff and Angst, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I need to stop torturing Mac like this, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 19:35:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16125284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparklez112/pseuds/Sparklez112
Summary: Heather McNamara is convinced that she's alone with her dark thoughts.And then Heather Chandler comes along.





	One Support

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This work contains an explicit self-harm attempt, as well as emotional parental abuse.
> 
> One of these days I'll write about happy Mac
> 
> .........today is not that day

“What were you thinking?” Heather’s mother growled. 

Heather was pushed into the passenger seat of her car, the door slamming shut. She fought the urge to curl in on herself, to start sobbing uncontrollably.

The guidance counselor promised everything would be okay, that she would be safe if she talked about how she was feeling.

And sure, it felt good to get things off her chest. But what she really wanted was some help, help to stop feeling like a pathetic fake who didn’t deserve her friends and who was better off dead.

They promised to help.

Her mother got into her own seat, angrily pounding on the gas pedal as they sped away from the school. 

“Are you trying to humiliate me?” She blared, her knuckles turning white against the steering wheel.

“N-No!” Heather frantically shook her head, trying to think of anything she could say to make her understand. Her thoughts were clouded, like she suddenly lost the ability to think properly and all she could do was shrivel away in fear.

She felt so worthless in that moment, her mother looking at her like she was an utter failure. A disappointment.

“You’re being so over-dramatic. You’re always one to play the victim, so desperate for unwarranted attention.”

“I’m sorry…” Heather didn’t know if she was actually sorry, all she knew is that she had to say exactly what her mother wanted to hear.

Tears seared in her eyes, but she willed them not to fall. If they did, she was in for a lot worse than this.

Heather was so confused. In the counselor's office her mother seemed worried and willing to listen. She remembered feeling hopeful, maybe things could finally get better. 

That all changed when they walked out of Westerburg High’s doors, and her mom’s charismatic face twisted into a deep scowl.

Heather felt so _stupid_ for thinking that things could be different. 

They pulled into their mansion, Heather breathing a small sigh of relief thinking that it was over.

That is, until her mother turned to face her for the first time since the incident. Her face was tight, and her eyes were straight fire.

Heather’s stomach lurched painfully. She wanted to close her eyes, to pretend that her mother wasn’t glaring at her with such intense _hatred_. 

“You will never speak to them or anyone else like that again, are we clear?”

Heather swallowed. “Yes, I understand. It - it was selfish.” She was sputtering like crazy, words caught in her throat. Her chest wouldn’t stop convulsing. She couldn’t think, or speak, or breathe…

The car door slammed again and heels clicked against concrete, Heather’s mother leaving her in the vehicle as if she were dust. 

And then she was alone.

She didn’t allow herself to cry yet, or even breathe heavily for that matter. She wasn’t going to be safe from her mother’s ridicule until she was hiding in her room. 

Still acutely aware of every movement she was making, she crawled out of the car and scampered into the house.  
A wave of pure relief washed over her when she arrived in her room and shut the door.

Heather’s fear was slowly replaced by something else.  
_Repulsion._

**_Why do you have to be so self centered? Why couldn’t you have kept your mouth shut?  
You’re weak, and pathetic, and deserve to feel like this._ **

She could feel tears starting to fall, but they weren’t the kind that could easily be wiped away.  
They were the kind that burned and stung in your eyes, the kind that made your face swell into an ugly red mess.

McNamara sat on her bed and buried herself into her pillow. She let the dark thoughts swirl around in her mind.

Even if she didn’t want them there, it wasn’t like there was anything she could do to stop them.  
She was trapped in her own mind, and there was no way out.

After awhile the blur of her tears faded enough for her to see.

Heather’s vision zoned in on the desk across the room, landing on a pair of scissors.

**_You deserve it._ **

She found herself standing up and latching onto the tool.

**_They don't care about you._ **

She sat back down on her bed, passing the cool metal blade between her fingers.

**_Do it._ **

Heather wasn’t positive where all of this was coming from, all she needed was relief from the guilt she felt.

She opened the scissors, slowly bringing the blade closer to her wrist...

_-Knock-_

McNamara yelped, chucking the scissors across the room at the sound of the noise. They skidded across the floor, stopping once they hit the wall.

“Heather?”

The blonde whirled her head around to find Heather Chandler entering her room.

“Heather…” McNamara stammered, not able to bring herself to face the redhead. She thought for sure she was caught, and above everything she looked like a mess. Her hair was frizzy, her makeup was everywhere and she definitely didn’t look how a Heather should.  
Somehow, it also felt relieving that someone saw her like this.  
Someone finally knew about her pain.

Desperately swatting her palms at her face in an attempt to dry the rest of her tears, she braced herself for more yelling. 

Instead, there was a dip in her bed.  
“Do you want to get out of here?”

This surprised the blonde.  
Wearily lifting her head, she was able to face Heather. She couldn’t bring herself to look into her eyes, but the rest of her features weren’t angry.

They were… stable.  
Familiar.  
“I don’t know if-” McNamara paused, trying to get her voice louder then the whisper it was currently at, “if I have the energy…”

“We can just go to my place, okay Mac?” 

Her heart fluttered at the nickname. It was something only Heather called her, but it was happening less and less since she wouldn’t be caught dead saying it at school.

Heather stood up, extending her arm towards the blonde.  
McNamara looked at it hesitantly.

_Do I deserve this?_

Eventually, Chandler locked fingers with her and she was pulled to her feet.  
She followed close behind Heather as they left the room, not wanting to cross paths with her mother again.

Chandler’s red Porsche was parked outside of the house.

“Are you coming?” Heather asked, already inside the vehicle.

Her gaze lingered on the car, but eventually McNamara gave a small nod. She took her time getting in and buckling herself into the passenger seat.

They pulled out of the lot. Heather couldn’t help but notice how constricted she felt wedged between the tin door and the armrest console.  
It really dawned on her; they were moving now, and there was no one way out.

Her breaths became shallow, and she fought the urge to cover her face. It felt like she had no control over her body, like she was on autopilot.

She could hear Chandler speaking to her, but was too distracted by how restrictive the seat belt felt wrapped around her waist, pinning her down. The blonde was convinced she was going to suffocate and die right then.

Heather shut her eyes tight, trying to get away from the intense pain. Sobs started falling from her lips.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Don’t be mad!”

Her mother’s gaze surrounded her. There was no escaping it.  
All she could do was keep blubbering words she wanted to hear and hope she would leave her alone.  
Then she felt herself being pulled out of the car, the rocks on the ground piercing into her knees. 

Heather’s eyes shot open, realizing that she was in Heather’s yard. Chandler had a hold on her hands, and was cursing to herself. McNamara wasn’t able to catch all of what she was saying because her body refused to calm down.

It felt like a weight was crushing her chest, pulverizing her insides. She couldn’t stop shivering. 

“I-it hurts-” Heather cried. She wanted to bring her arms to her torso where the pain burned, but before she could Chandler squeezed her hands supportively. “What do you need me to do?”

Frosty blue eyes met McNamara’s hazel eyes. She was caught in the stare, unable to look away.  
She didn’t see anger or disappointment in her eyes.  
She saw worry.

This was enough for Heather to let herself fall forward, resting her head on Chandler’s shoulder.

The redhead didn’t move at first, even letting out an audible “Uh…”. She soon adjusted how she was sitting, rubbing reluctant circles into her friend’s back.

It took awhile, but McNamara’s breathing evened out. After everything that transpired she was exhausted, remaining completely still against Heather’s shoulder. 

She eventually muttered: “Mm fowy uf eing uc a an.”

Heather laughed, not in a mocking way but in an endearing way. Truth be told, McNamara could’ve listened to that laugh all day.

Chandler pulled away. She took a second to push the blonde curls out of the younger girl’s face. “What did you say?”

“I’m sorry,” Heather gulped, looking down at the rocky ground, “For being such a pain.”

“No. I’m sorry that you had to listen to-” Venom seared itself into Heather’s voice, making Heather tense up. Chandler stopped herself.

“Do you feel any better?” She asked instead, her voice softer.

Heather picked herself up off the ground and dusted the rubble from her legs.  
“I do. Thank you.” She tried smiling, but it faltered due to the guilt she felt.

The two girls went inside Chandler’s mansion.  
They immediately found their way to Heather’s room. McNamara wrapped herself in Chandler’s deep red comforter.  
She watched Heather on the other side of the room, rummaging through her vanity. On one hand, she was happy that Heather was with her. If it was anyone else, she would be completely mortified that they witnessed her breakdown. 

It was different with Heather.

However, it felt self-serving to be given this much attention when it was her own fault that she was so weak.

Chandler walked back over to the bed, dumping random makeup items and brushes from her arms. She climbed up onto the mattress and sat crossed-legged in front of the blonde. “Let me do your makeup, it’ll help.”

Heather nodded. Chandler dabbed some primer onto an applicator.  
Truthfully, she wasn’t sure how this was supposed to help. That’s not to say Heather had never done her makeup before: it happened often before important parties. The two of them and Duke would get together, usually at Chandler’s house, and get ready. She enjoyed that time more than the actual party, picking outfits for one another and blasting the radio.

But this just felt stiff and awkward, especially when she was given instructions to close her eyes or to suck in her cheeks. Heather thought the effort was pointless because she definitely wasn't up to seeing anyone else tonight.

The one thing she enjoyed about it was getting to see Heather get into her mode. For every second she was allowed to have her eyes open, she enjoyed her close proximity to the redhead.

“Press your lips together.” Was her final instruction, McNamara obliging.

Inspecting her work, Chandler gave a satisfactory smile. She guided Heather over to her mirror.

Her face was caked in foundation, bubblegum coloured eyeshadow and lipstick making her features pop. It made her look sweet, like some sort of fairytale princess you’d see in colouring books.

Heather wanted to scream.  
Her put-together makeup was the exact opposite of how she felt on the inside.  
_Is this how things are going to be? I’m just going to keep hiding how I really feel forever?_

“You don’t like it.” Chandler said after a while of silence.  
“No!” Heather frantically waved her hands, “That’s not it at all! You’re great at doing makeup.”

The older girl sighed.  
“I’m… not very good at... _this_ , okay? I just want to help. But I can’t do that unless you tell me how. Do you think you can do that?”

McNamara considered denying everything. It was so much easier to pretend she wasn’t falling apart when mascara wasn’t cascading down her face like it had been earlier.  
“... It’s… selfish…” She forced the words from her throat.

Her head bowed like it had earlier in the driveway. 

“You’re not selfish, Mac. Please don’t think that. Was it your mom that said that?”

The silence answered Chandler’s question for her.

“Oh my god. She’s- she’s wrong about this whole situation, okay? Adults have no way of handling situations like this, your mother the least of all. If anything, I’m the selfish one for letting it get this bad.”

Heather lifted her head. “No you’re not, this isn’t your fault-”

“It’s not your fault either.”

McNamara remembered the counselor telling her the same thing. But after saying that, she was whisked away by her mother and made to feel like it was.  
She wasn’t sure what to believe at this point, especially since the counselor promised everything would be okay when it definitely wasn’t. 

All she knows is that she trusts Heather.

“I’m tired of pretending everything’s okay. I thought I could get better without getting you involved, sometimes I don’t feel like I deserve to be friends with you guys. So I went to the counselor, but…”

The image of her mother’s eyes reappeared in her memory, like a wasp that wouldn’t go away no matter how many times you swat at it. It was too much.

“I’m here. I might not be the best at comforting people, but I want to learn. For you.”  
Heather’s cheeks heated up when Chandler reached for her hand again.  
“I promise you deserve it.”

She felt so comfortable with her fingers intertwined with Chandler’s.  
For once, she desperately wanted to believe that she did deserve it.

“Let’s get your face cleaned up, okay?” The redhead fished for a makeup wipe on her vanity. A smile set on McNamara’s face as Heather gently wiped her face with the damp tissue. 

Chandler tossed the wipe away once she was finished. McNamara stepped towards the mirror, feeling a little more like herself as she faced her reflection.  
Slowly, her eyes trailed from the mirror and landed on Heather’s silver hairbrush. 

“Do you think you could brush my hair?”  
She immediately added: “Is that weird? You don’t have to-”

Another melodic laugh was drawn from the redhead. “I think I can manage.”

At first, the two sat on the edge of the bed. Chandler gently pulled the silver brush through the girl’s golden curls, careful not to tug on any knots.

McNamara felt all tension float away from her body. The rhythmic brushing soothed her more than anything else ever could.  
After a few minutes, there was a pause.

“Would you be more comfortable laying down?”

Heather could only nod shyly, thrilled that she was being asked what she for once wanted instead of it being assumed.  
Chandler moved to a spot behind her, and McNamara set her head down on the older girl’s lap. Her hair draped over it like a silk blanket.

Chandler resumed brushing, and a blissful sigh escaped from Heather’s lips. Her eyes fluttered shut.

Heather was on cloud nine, and she never wanted to come down.  
She wanted to stay with Heather, hearing her soft breaths as she worked and feeling like she mattered to someone.

“Mac?”

“Mhmm?” There was a twinge of sleepiness in her voice.

“You’ve haven’t…” Chandler’s voice was delicate, more so than Heather had ever heard before. “Done anything to hurt yourself, have you?”

A part of McNamara wanted to dodge the question, but Heather sounded so caring and she felt so safe…

“No. I don’t know what came over me earlier. I just felt… awful. Like I needed to do something.”

She felt the brush being pulled from her hair, replaced instead by a hand stroking it. Heather leaned into the touch.

“You’ll let me know if you feel like that again, right? I don’t want anything bad happening to you.”

McNamara nuzzled herself further into the older girl’s lap. “I will. I promise.”

Heather felt lighter then she did before.  
She knew her problems weren’t going to automatically evaporate, but having someone there who was willing to fight beside her was reassuring. 

That, combined with her emotionally draining day and how cozy she felt in the moment made it easy for her to slip into a dreamless sleep. 

Her state made it impossible to hear Chandler speaking.

“I won’t let anything bad happen to you again. I love you, Heather.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> This was very personal and cathartic to write. I hope someone is able to get something out of this. 
> 
> If anyone out there is struggling with depression or other mental health hardships I'm sending you good vibes and support. Your problems are valid and not worth glossing over. Stay strong, loves ❤
> 
> Until the next fic!


End file.
